


Miłość, Miłość, Pokój, Pokój (Love, Love, Peace, Peace)

by Drapetomania



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Eurovision, M/M, Singer!Stiles, musician!derek, songwriter!derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 05:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14805156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drapetomania/pseuds/Drapetomania
Summary: “You… euro-what?” Derek grimaces like he’d never heard-“Eurovision,” Stiles repeats insistently. “The Eurovision Song Contest. You know they say you Americans are all too self absorbed to know anything about the rest of the world and I really wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt but I want you to know that I am extremely disappointed. You're a musician! And Eurovision is the biggest music competition in all of Europe. And Australia.”“Australia?” Derek asks incredulously.“That's what you picked up from that? Yes, Australia. They asked nicely. Now, focus. Eurovision. As I said, biggest music competition on the continent and they want me to represent the country!”





	Miłość, Miłość, Pokój, Pokój (Love, Love, Peace, Peace)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GameCake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GameCake/gifts).



> Eurovision ain't over yet this year, Liza! :P I hope you enjoy this simple, fun, on-the-run written fic, which I hope will be updated with a lot more content soon. Love ya <3
> 
> Many thanks to Morg for helping with ideas, story and a bit of beta-ing (I was too impatient to wait for the rest lmao) <3  
> Also, to hipaynes(tumblr) for the polish translation, and glenn-the-cinnamon-roll-rhee(tumblr) for more polish references!  
> (forgive me, I have no idea how to tag, but I will try to add things as they come along)

“Derek!”

 

The door bursts open, catching Derek by surprise. Two seconds later Stiles is shoving a sheet of paper in Derek’s face. It rustles and Derek can't actually see anything because it's too close and Stiles won't stop shaking it around.

 

“Derek, look! Look!”

 

“Whoa, hold on,” he says, reaching up to take a hold of the fluttering object less than inch before his face.

 

“No, watch out! You'll destroy it. I don't want it to get wrinkles,” Stiles snatches the paper away. He grips it with both hands, closer to his chest, holding it carefully.

 

Derek sighs and sets a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Calm down, Stiles. I'm not going to destroy... whatever that is.”

 

Stiles finally takes a moment, taking a deep breath and his gaze lands on Derek's torso, only just realizing that it is bare. He can't say he has seen many half-nude guys but out of the ones that he has... Derek is absolutely the finest: like a statue of a classical Greek god. Stiles wonders if he were to punch Derek's stomach he'd bruise his hand; possibly even break a knuckle.

 

Fortunately, Derek is gracious enough to slip on a shirt, breaking Stiles' gaze from the tantalizing skin. His tongue unconsciously darts out to lick over his bottom lip before he remembers what he's here for. Bouncing lightly, he holds the paper up toward Derek.

 

“I got invited to Eurovision!”

 

“You… euro-what?” Derek grimaces like he’d never heard-

 

“Eurovision,” Stiles repeats insistently. “The Eurovision Song Contest. You know they say you Americans are all too self absorbed to know anything about the rest of the world and I really wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt but I want you to know that I am extremely disappointed. You're a musician! And Eurovision is  _ the  _ biggest music competition in all of Europe. And Australia.”

 

“Australia?” Derek asks incredulously.

 

“That's what you picked up from that? Yes, Australia. They asked nicely. Now, focus. Eurovision. As I said, biggest music competition on the continent and they want  _ me  _ to represent the country!”

 

“They want you to represent Poland?”

 

“Well, duh, I'm not Australian.” A pause. “Don't sound so surprised. I earned this and it's an honor to represent the country of my ancestors.”

 

Derek finally gets a chance to read what's on the paper and it looks like Stiles printed out an email with an official invitation. Derek actually had heard of Eurovision somewhere, once, but he'd never quite cared to look into it. Europe was far off and he'd never thought he'd have anything to do with it. They had sent Stiles to tour most parts of the world at this point but Derek hadn't gone with him, preferring to stick at home in his peace and quiet so he could write his next songs.

 

“Do you even speak polish?”

 

“Nie wierzę! Masz jakiekolwiek pojęcie kim jestem? Uważałem Cię za mojego najlepszego przyjaciela, a ty nawet nie wiesz o moim polskim pochodzeniu? Jest ono w moim imieniu. Moje nazwisko, więc teoretycznie moje imię też, skoro jest to skrót mojego nazwiska. Nie mówiłem Ci jakie było moje pierwsze słowo? Wilk! Wilk, to po polsku. Nigdy mnie nie słuchasz. Jakby-”*

 

“Okay, okay, point taken,” Derek interrupts. He runs a hand up into his hair as he hadn't gotten to style it yet, having just woken up minutes before Stiles came rushing in. He’s a little dumbfounded by this sudden development, stuck on the way the foreign words rolled off Stiles’ tongue.

 

“Polish is my mother tongue. Shame on you for not knowing that.”

 

“Yeah, shame on you, Derek,” Laura joins in as she walks into the apartment, with Lydia in tow.

 

“What are we shaming him for?” the redhead asks as she takes a seat on the armchair, legs folding, as if she owns the place.

 

“Derek didn’t know I speak polish,” Stiles explains. “Besides, many artists sing in English anyway. You would know that if you knew anything about the competition.”

 

“I knew you speak polish,” Lydia says, and no one's surprised. It’s a wonder when she doesn’t know everything beforehand for once.

 

Derek sighs heavily. “You know, it’s way too early for you all to be ganging up on me. I should start locking the door,” he mutters, making his way through the one room studio that also serves as a makeshift second apartment, to turn on the coffee machine. “I know why Stiles is here, but what about you two?”

 

“You make being a grumpy not-morning person cute,” Stiles calls after him, making the male turn around to glare back. Derek can only hope that the distance between him and the others is hiding the way his ears burn up. Stiles’ sense of humor often knows to hit his secret feelings for him like a bullseye.

 

“Yeah, Stiles, what are we here for?” Laura prompts them all to turn to the young singer, whose grins brightens a couple notches. 

 

“Oh! Yes, listen up. I have summoned you all here for a very special occasion-”

 

“In my studio, if I may note,” Derek intervenes.

 

To wish Laura counters, “ **Our** studio.”

 

But Stiles disregards them both and carries on. “-which is to declare that- Derek say it with me -I got invited- fine then don't say it with me. Anyway, I got invited to Eurovision! We're going to Europe!”

 

Derek does not expect the squeals that come from the girls, matching Stiles. Lydia even gets to her feet again so she can join in on the hug Laura and Stiles had going.

 

“Oh, Stiles that's amazing! I'm so proud of you!” Lydia exclaims and Laura is ruffling her head in her typical devilish way that Derek has gotten to experienced many times himself.

 

Stiles is beaming between the two girls, obviously proud of himself, and Derek can't help himself a private smile as he turns to get his coffee from the machine. 

 

“You owe me a hug too, Derek. That's the proper reaction when it comes to Eurovision since it is all about  _ love _ ,” he sings. “But I'll forgive you if you come with me this time.”

 

Derek raises an eyebrow. “You want me there?” 

 

“Of course I want you there. It's going to be your song, after all. Don't you want to see it performed in front of an entire country?” Stiles asks. He is looking at Derek so hopefully, dropping any air of false confidence. 

 

It hits Derek somewhere in his gut and he has to swallow hard and bite his tongue to not start swooning about the way the happiness brings out all of Stiles’ best features. He is literally shining, cheeks lightly aflush, eyes bright. He is the prettiest person Derek has ever seen. Suddenly, his whole being itches with the need to scream it out. He has always thought shouting from the rooftops is kind of stupid, but remarkably now he knows how it feels to want the world to know about his love. Maybe Europe was enough for now. He'll write a song about his own love for a competition about love and have Stiles sing it.

 

“Yeah,” he nods,”I’ll be there.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Translation: “I can't believe you! Do you have any idea who I even am? I considered you my best friend and you don't even know about my polish origin? It's in my damn name. My last name, and so technically my first name too, since it is an abbreviation of my last name. Didn't I even tell you my first word? It was wolf! Wolf, that's polish. I swear you never listen to me. It's like-”


End file.
